


Wherever I Go (You Go With Me)

by phdmama



Series: The One Who Holds My Heart [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: A tiny bit of exhibitionism, Anal Sex, But it's not really about that, Kissing, Librarian Louis, Long-Term Love, M/M, Marriage, Professor Harry, Some angst, Sometimes life gets in the way, Whoa a bunch of sappiness too, established relationship au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 08:47:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10659081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phdmama/pseuds/phdmama
Summary: Harry reaches out and pats Louis. Sometimes, late at night, lying next to his husband of twenty years, he can’t help but feel a little lonely. It’s a good life they’ve built for themselves, he reminds himself, an incredible life. They’re both blessed to be working in their fields, they’ve got three amazing kids, they’re both still healthy and active with very little lower back pain, but late at night, deep in the dark, a still, small voice from somewhere inside of Harry wonders if this is really as good as it gets.But then, the fates conspire in Harry's favor, and provide him with the perfect opportunity to help Louis and him get their groove back.Copley Square is never going to know what hit it.





	Wherever I Go (You Go With Me)

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written as part of an ongoing challenge. We each select random numbers and are given a specific emotion from the book 1000 Feelings For Which There Are No Names. To read the other fics written in this challenge, [click here](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/ShortFic_Challenge_For_Which_There_Is_No_Name/works), or you can find the masterpost on tumblr [here](http://lululawrence.tumblr.com/post/159679804243/1000-feelings-for-which-there-are-no-names-prompt).
> 
> This fic was inspired by number 672: **"The worry that everything's already been said."**
> 
> As always, this is a work of fiction, meant only to entertain. Please do not break the 4th wall or post this fic anywhere else!

_The worry that everything's already been said._

Harry turns into the driveway and parks his car down in the turnaround spot where he always leaves it, making sure there’s enough room for Louis to get the minivan in next to it. He frowns, wondering where his better half and their offspring might be, and then remembers. It’s Thursday. _Oh shit, it’s Thursday,_ he thinks, and as soon as he engages the parking brake, he grabs his phone, wincing at the series of increasingly irritated texts from his partner and husband of 20 years.

Louis:  Hey, are you going to be home by 6:30?                                                                 _3:30 pm_

           Don’t forget, it’s crazy night.                                                                                 _3:35 pm_

           I know you had that faculty meeting this afternoon, did it go over?                           _5:42 pm_

           Harry, you’re picking Jack up at 7, right?                                                               _6:15 pm_

           Shit, okay, I’ll go get Jack after I pick up Ruby from tap. Are you home by 7:00?       _6:42 pm_

           Sam is over at Michael’s, can you go get him? They have to get to soccer.                 _6:50 pm_

           Okay, since you’re not responding, I’ll swing by soccer and get Sam                         _7:02 pm_  
           on the way home from karate.

Harry glances at the clock. 7:15, shit shit _shit._ His faculty meeting had, as predicted, gone late, then one of his grad students had pulled him into an interesting discussion about a possible dissertation topic, so he’d missed the express, and then he’d stopped to take some pictures of the sunset at the train station (in his defense, it was the first clear night in weeks and the evening light had been gorgeous). As he climbs out of the car, a small, sensible sedan, good for getting him to and from the train station, he stretches, groaning as he feels his back pop. He’s been swamped at the university for weeks now, there’s been no time for much of anything that isn’t work or academic politics, certainly not something like yoga.

As he grabs his bag from the car and shuts the door, he sees their ancient minivan pull off of the quiet street and come zooming down the driveway. The car has barely halted when the doors on both sides open, and the volume level in the cool spring evening rises as Louis and the kids hop out, clearly in the midst of a spirited discussion.

“I’m just saying,” Jack continues his impassioned argument, “It’s not _fair_ , Dad. Hey, Papa!” He flings his arms around Harry and gives him a tight squeeze and a guileless, gap-toothed smile. Harry gives thanks for his sunny, sweet boy, who at 10 is not yet too grown up for hugs and kisses, unlike his older brother, who at 14 is already deep into his sullen years with no apparent end in sight. “Papa, it’s not fair, Sam got _pizza_ , and Daddy says Ruby and I have to have _cereal_.”

Louis is pulling some bags of groceries out of the back of the van, and Harry slings his messenger bag over his shoulder and walks over to give him a hand.

Louis gives him a smile, and Harry offers a small prayer of relief. The smile means that Louis either wasn’t too pissed off to begin with, or he’s had time to cool off from his irritation.

Harry brushes a kiss to Louis’ cheek as he leans past him to grab more groceries out of the van. “How was work, babe?”

Louis shrugs. “Good, no one peed on the carpet, so that’s always a win.” Louis works thirty hours a week as the children’s librarian in the next town over from where they live, and holds Toddler Storytime on Thursdays. It’s not his favorite activity.

“That’s good. What’s Jack mad about?”

“Oh,” Louis sighs, running a hand through his hair as he says, “Sam, grab some of these bags, okay?” He hands over the bags to Sam who grimaces but doesn’t argue, and Harry marvels at the sight of him, now almost as tall as Louis, hauling several heavy bags up onto the porch and into the house. “Yeah, Sam had pizza at Michael’s, and Jack is convinced that this is going to lead to an imbalance in the force. Or at least, you know, in his stomach.”

As they make their way along the wobbly brick pathway, Harry spies some crocuses bravely trying to bloom. It’s April in Vermont. This means that it might be 80 or there could be a blizzard, and even after 18 years here, Harry still isn’t used to the weather. He wishes the little flowers luck and makes a mental note to check the weather later. If snow is coming, he won’t spend the weekend raking out the flower beds.

“I’m so sorry about this evening, babe,” Harry says as they enter the house and he trips over the groceries Sam has dropped in the middle of the front hall.

“It’s fine,” Louis says, “I figured you were caught up with stuff at school.” His voice is even but Harry feels a flicker of guilt. “You’ve been flat out since they asked you to take over.” Harry had taken on the position of Chair of his department in the fall, when the previous Chair had been fired for the improper use of department funds. It had been a mess, and on top of it, this semester, Harry is teaching three courses, as well as sitting on four different senior thesis committees. He’s always had trouble saying no, which Louis had never seemed to mind when it was _him_ Harry wasn’t saying no to, but over the years, he’s gotten less understanding about it.

The normal chaos of an evening with a three kids, two careers, two cats, and a rambling Victorian house continues to roll on. Louis and Harry hustle to get some food into Jack and Ruby, with Jack continuing to complain bitterly about the injustice of no pizza, getting the groceries unloaded, making sure homework is done. Jack remembers as he climbs into bed that his word ‘hat’ is due tomorrow, and then 8-year old Ruby becomes despondent about the plight of the pandas. By 8:30, the younger two are quiet, and at 9:00, Louis is knocking on Sam’s door, calling out quietly, “Time for bed, bud.” Harry hears him entering the room, and as the low rumble of their voices gets louder and more strident, he sighs.

Sam stomps down the stairs and tosses his phone onto the kitchen counter, glares at it, glares at Harry, and says, “I’m just saying, you and Daddy don’t have to put _your_ phones away at 9:00,” and stomps back upstairs without another word.

Harry sighs again, sees Louis coming back down the stairs, and stands. They pass each other wordlessly as Harry heads upstairs to give his brood hugs and kisses. For some reason, confessions come easier in the dark, so it takes Harry several minutes to complete his rounds, and by the time he gets back downstairs, Louis is at the kitchen table with his laptop.

Harry pours them each a glass of wine, and sets Louis’ on the table next to him. Louis doesn’t look up from whatever he’s working on, just murmurs a quiet thanks as he lifts the glass to take a sip. Harry sits on the couch, pulls out the last of the papers he needs to finish marking so he can get them handed back in his 10:00 seminar tomorrow. The house is quiet around them, the silence broken only by the soft sounds of Louis typing, and the turning of pages as Harry grades.

When he looks up two hours later, he realizes Louis has closed his laptop and headed to their bedroom, which is on the first floor, away from the kids upstairs. He sets down his work, and stretches, deciding to get up early and finish the rest before class. He heads into the bathroom, where Louis is brushing his teeth, and smiles at him in the mirror, watching the fine lines around Louis’ eyes move as he smiles back around his toothbrush.

Louis spits, rinses his toothbrush, and sets it back on the sink, oblivious to Harry’s small huff of annoyance as he picks it up and sets it in the holder on Louis’ side of the sink. Twenty years, Harry muses to himself, twenty years that he has been stowing Louis’ toothbrush for him. They move around each other in companionable silence with the ease created by years of this dance, Louis washing his face, Harry brushing his teeth.

As they climb into bed, Louis rolls over to plant an affectionate kiss on Harry’s cheek. “You gonna read, babe?” he asks sleepily.

Harry considers a moment, and then shakes his head, sliding under the covers and turning off his bedside lamp. “Nah,” he says into the darkness, feeling Louis rolling over onto his side, his back to Harry, “I’m beat.”

Louis murmurs something incoherent, clearly already close to asleep, and Harry sighs in envy. As he’s gotten older and life has gotten more complicated, sleep has grown more elusive. He’s pretty sure Louis has no idea how many nights Harry lies awake next to him, churning over the events of the day, and whatever worries are occupying his mind. Did he remember to pay the gas bill? Did Louis make an appointment to get that mole looked at? Will Frank, one of the students he’s working with, get off his ass and actually finish his goddamn senior thesis, without which he will not graduate in a month? Ruby’s teacher thinks she should get tested for ADHD, is that something they should do? Is Sam okay? He’s seemed more morose than surly lately, and Harry is worried about him.

Harry reaches out and pats Louis. Sometimes, late at night, lying next to his husband of twenty years, he can’t help but feel a little lonely. It’s a good life they’ve built for themselves, he reminds himself, an incredible life. They’re both blessed to be working in their fields, they’ve got three amazing kids, they’re both still healthy and active with very little lower back pain, but late at night, deep in the dark, a still, small voice from somewhere inside of Harry wonders if this is really as good as it gets.

As he drifts off to sleep, Harry realizes that he has no idea what Louis was working on so industriously after dinner. Worse, he realizes, it never occurred to him to ask.

The weekend comes, and with it, all the usual hustle and bustle. Jack has dance, Ruby has karate, Sam seems to think that spending the entire weekend playing Overwatch is an appropriate behavioral choice, leading to a couple of passionate discussions. By Sunday night, Harry is exhausted. He and Louis have barely had a chance to talk, other than the usual negotiations of who is taking whom, where, and when.

As Harry climbs into bed, Louis says, “Hey, don’t forget, I’ve got the ALA thing in Boston next weekend.”

Harry frowns. “I thought that wasn’t until June?”

“Harry, honestly,” Louis' voice is equal parts affectionate and irritated, “Do you even listen to a word I say? June is the ALSC conference. This is the big ALA bi-annual conference, with the gala Friday night. I’m going down Thursday.”

Harry flops onto his back and grumbles, “I’m sorry, I can’t keep all the acronyms clear, there’s so many of them. And I fucking hate bi-annual. Bi-anything. I never know if they mean twice a year or every two years.”

Louis scoffs as he turns off the light, and Harry can feel him settling under the duvet next to him. “Harry, you’ve been bitching about that for as long as I’ve known you. This is every two years. Binh and I are doing our presentation Friday afternoon.”

“What?” Harry rolls onto his side and stares at him. “What do you mean?”

At that, Louis' tone shifts to flat-out annoyance. “Fuck, Harry. The thing we submitted in the Fall, that was accepted, I told you about that.”

Harry feels his own flare of indignation, “Louis, I assure you, I would have remembered that, if you’d told me. That’s huge, that’s amazing. I remember when you submitted it, I didn't know it was accepted.”

There’s a long pause between them, and Harry feels his stomach sink. What is going on with them? He’d been sure they were fine, just in a bit of a slump, but this feels bigger. He opens his mouth to say something but Louis cuts him off with a sigh.

“Whatever, I’m exhausted.” He rolls towards Harry and give him a perfunctory kiss on the cheek, and Harry lies still with worry continuing to nag at his gut, realizing that he needs to do something, _they_ need to do something to make this better.

He rolls towards Louis, to reach out for his hand as he does almost every night, but tonight, Louis doesn’t reach back.

The next morning is Harry’s day to get the kids out the door on time. He chases them through the making of lunches and gathering of homework and shoes, and winces when Jack begins playing his trumpet up at the end of the driveway as they’re waiting for the bus, sending a mental apology to the neighbors. Finally, there’s a moment of quiet, and he plops down into a chair at the kitchen table, and sips his coffee, making a face at the tepid temperature.

Louis comes out of the bedroom and says, “I’m off, Binh and I are meeting for breakfast to go over things for Friday, I’ll see you tonight?”

Harry, deep into his thoughts, looks up and smiles. “Okay, babe.”

Louis moves closer and drops a kiss onto his upturned mouth. “Love you, baby.”

“Louis,” Harry speaks without thinking, “Are we…” his voice trails off, “Are we okay?”

Louis pauses and looks at him, really _looks_ at him. “I think so?” he asks and then answers his own question, “I mean, maybe not, if you need to wonder.” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, such a Louis gesture that Harry can’t help but smile. “I know we’ve been so busy, that we’re a bit disconnected. When I get back from Boston, we’ll make some time to spend together, okay? Just us.”

At his words, however, a spark ignites in Harry’s mind. Time. That’s what they need, isn’t it? Time together, without the distractions of the kids and the house and homework and work and all the other craziness that fills their beautifully busy life. Harry’s mind goes into overdrive as he listens to the door click shut, and he begins to fan that spark into a flame of an idea. Time. He hears Louis back the minivan up the driveway, and as the sound of the car engine dies away into the distance, he grabs the phone and dials a familiar number, grinning as the phone is answered.

“Mom? I need a favor.”

Harry takes advantage of the fact that he doesn’t have class until 4:00 that afternoon. He tells Anne his plan, which she enthusiastically endorses. Harry looks at the calendar, writes out a list for Anne, and then, with a little googling, figures out where Louis is most likely staying. He figures the chance of actually getting a room at the hotel where the conference is being held is slim, but calls just for the hell of it.

“Copley Plaza, how may I help you?” The woman’s voice is clear and professionally friendly, as if there’s nothing else she would rather be doing in this moment than talking to Harry.

“Um, hey,” Harry clears his throat, “I know it’s a long shot, but I was hoping to surprise my husband at the conference this weekend, and was wondering if you had any hotel rooms for Friday and Saturday night.”

“Oh,” the woman sounds mournful, “Oh dear, I’m pretty sure we’ve been booked for months, but let me just check for you, sir.” He can hear typing in the background and then she speaks, her tone completely changed, “Why, my goodness, sir, you _are_ in luck! It looks like the Boston Public Library suite just opened up,” her voice drops and suddenly she sounds human as she mutters, “Shit, that’s never a good sign, cancelling your honeymoon reservation 5 days before the wedding,” and Harry snorts without thinking. There’s silence on the other end of the line and then the woman says primly, “Yes, anyway, sir, the Library Suite is available for Friday and Saturday night, and I’ve taken the liberty of putting it on hold for you, because it will go quickly.”

She quotes a nightly rate that has Harry sweating but he throws caution to the wind. This feels important, and the fact that it’s the Boston Public Library Suite that’s come available has got to be a sign. He knows Louis loves spontaneity and big gestures, and honestly, Harry can’t remember the last time he even offered a small gesture, brought him flowers from the grocery store, or sent him a card through the mail. Things he used to do all the time.

“I’ll take it,” he says, pulling out his credit card.

The next few days are spent helping Louis get prepared for the trip, which mainly means Harry drops things off at the drycleaners and then picks them up. The whole family sees Louis off on Thursday morning, standing on the porch waving to him as he backs up the driveway in Harry’s little sedan. As he disappears down the street, Harry turns to the kids.

“Okay,” he says, clapping his hands in excitement, “Kids, there’s something you need to know.”

The kids are, not surprisingly, thrilled to be spending the weekend with their nana, even Sam, who’s usually a bit too cool to show how much he loves his grandparents.

When Harry explains that he’s going down to surprise Louis, Ruby gives a gasp of delight, her blue eyes, so like Louis', sparkling in the sun of the Spring morning.

“Oh, Papa! That’s so…” she heaves a long sigh, “That’s so romantic!”

Sam snorts, and slings his arm around her, offering a rare moment of affection for the younger sister he lives to torment. “It’s gross, Rube. C’mon, let’s go in, you gotta get your lunch made.”

Harry feels his heart swell with affection as Jack slips his slightly-sticky hand into Harry’s as they wander back into the house to finish getting ready for the morning. “Do you think Daddy will like you surprising him?”

Harry smiles down at him and attempts to flatten Jack’s cowlick. “I sure hope so, buddy. Daddy’s always liked surprises.”

“Well,” Jack shrugs philosophically, “If he doesn’t, you should just take him out for ice cream. Daddy always likes ice cream.”

Harry snorts with laughter, “That he does, baby. C’mon, let’s get your things together.”

Friday finds Harry handing over the keys to the minivan and a detailed schedule with directions to all the places to his mother, who just laughs and swats him away.

“Get out of here,” she grins, “have a fantastic weekend, don’t worry about a thing, and we’ll see you guys Sunday afternoon. I’ll get everyone where they need to go, we’ll eat pizza for every meal, it’ll be fine.”

Harry has planned to get to the hotel in time to take a shower and get changed, and breathes a sigh of thanks that he has managed to navigate downtown Boston before rush hour, and has made it to the hotel by 2:00. He knows Louis' presentation is at 3:00. His plan is to steal in and watch from the back, and then sneak into the gala that night. He’s not got much beyond that, and mainly just hopes that he doesn’t have to resort to texting Louis to tell him he’s there.

He checks in, accepts the key cards and paperwork, and slings his bag over his shoulder. The Copley Plaza is several levels nicer than the hotels he’s stayed in over the last bunch of years, and he appreciates the click of his shoes on the marble floor as he walks to the elevator. He takes the elevator to the top floor, and his eyes widen as the doors open to a luxuriously decorated landing. He makes his way down the hall, and carefully opens the door.

His breath catches as he enters the suite. He’s in a spacious entrance hall that’s got a couple of comfy benches and a half-bath off to the side. He walks into the gorgeously appointed living room, with a large velvet couch, a fireplace and flat screen tv. On the other side of the room, there’s a lovely antique dining table that could easily seat six, situated in front of a window looking out over Copley plaza, and behind that, there’s a small kitchenette. He wanders through the living room, and down the hall, into the bedroom, where he finds more gorgeous antiques, a king-sized bed, and large windows that also offer a view over the Square. There’s a small seating area, and he drops his bag and briefcase on the bed and heads into the bathroom, where he whistles appreciatively. The whole thing is marble and stainless steel. There’s a generous shower stall, and a jacuzzi tub that could easily accommodate not only Louis and himself, but a few others as well, should that be warranted. There are piles of fluffy white towels, and Harry takes an appreciative sniff of the clearly-high end bath products placed neatly on the counter.

He heads out to the bedroom again, and carefully unpacks and hangs up his suit. There’s even a steamer tucked into the wardrobe, and he smiles, certainty settling in his gut that this was the right thing to do.

He makes his way down to the conference level of the hotel, and snags a schedule from one of the tables. He finds out where Louis and Binh are presenting, and heads down to the hall. He’s timed it carefully, to slip in just after they’ve started, so he can hide in the back. He doesn’t want Louis to see him just yet, just wants to spend a bit of time observing Louis. He feels like he hasn’t looked at him, really looked at him, in far, far too long.

Tonight, however, that is going to change.

His plan works. No one questions Harry’s presence, and he notices that he’s not the only one not wearing the conference ID badge. Perhaps people sneaking into academic conferences for librarians is not actually a huge concern? It's hard to fathom, but in any case, no one stops him as he enters the darkened auditorium, and slips into an empty seat in the last row. He squints, wishing he’d brought the glasses he vehemently denies he needs, as Louis is a bit blurry up on the stage. He’s already speaking as Harry settles into his seat.

Harry’s heart swells with pride. Louis is poised and confident as he speaks, taking the lead on the presentation. Harry knows Binh suffers from a deep fear of speaking in public, so he’s standing to the side, looking on anxiously as Louis talks, walking the audience through their presentation. The room is about three-quarters full, and Harry feels a bit smug on Louis’ behalf. He’s been to more of these kinds of conferences than he can count, and to have such good attendance is definitely not the norm.

It’s entirely unsurprising to Harry that Louis is a wonderful presenter. He takes the dry data and makes it come alive, and sprinkles anecdote after anecdote about the important work their rural library does that has the people around Harry laughing and nodding in recognition as Louis describes some of the challenges of their work. By the end of the presentation, Harry is flush with a renewed appreciation for Louis as a professional. He knows Louis has had to make compromises on his career, following Harry to Vermont when he’d been offered his tenure-track position at UVM, and he’s never complained, never been anything other than encouraging of Harry and his career, and Harry feels a sudden flush of guilt at how much he’s taken Louis’ unwavering support for granted, and vows that today will be the beginning of changing that. He’d had no idea that Louis had been partnering with the local preschools to work on early literacy development in the rural communities around them, and claps enthusiastically when the presentation comes to end.

As he’s heading out, he hears a couple of young women, grad students if he doesn’t miss his guess, talking about the presentation as they wander out behind him.

“God, that’s amazing. I heard he’s working to get a grant to fund an internship too, since it’s hard to get interns in those rural communities.” The admiration in the girl’s voice is clear.

The other girl snickers, “He’s so fucking hot, I’d intern for free, wouldn’t you?”

The first girl laughs, “He’s totally got that sexy librarian thing going on.”

Harry grins to himself as he heads out of the hotel, remembering the sexy librarian glasses commercial he and Louis had laughed themselves hoarse over a few years ago. He still remembers Louis saying firmly, “Libraries just aren’t sexy, Harold, no matter how many fantasies you have about fucking me over the reference desk.”

He decides to wander around a bit, it’s been several years since he’s been to Boston, and he’s always loved the area where the conference is being held. The gala is set to start at 7, but Harry knows his man, and Louis won’t be there until at least 8:00, so he’s got some time to grab dinner and then get showered and changed. He shoots Louis a quick text as he walks out into the bright spring afternoon, “Hey baby, how’d it go?”

He gets a thumbs up with several exclamation points and grins as he texts back the kissing face. Normally he’d be holding office hours right now, so Louis wouldn’t expect him to be particularly communicative.

Later that evening, Harry’s stomach is filled with nervous anticipation as he makes his way from the luxurious suite down to the ballroom where the gala is getting under way. He wants to position himself close to the entrance so he can keep an eye out for Louis. He’s got a plan of how he’s going to approach him, and he really hopes Louis will play along.

He’s wearing the suit he purchased for Liam and Zayn’s wedding a few years ago, and he feels a bit flushed as he recalls how that evening had ended, and suddenly frowns. Zayn and Liam have been married for 5 years, and Harry thinks that may be the last time he and Louis had an overnight away from the kids. He feels thankful the suit still fits, he’s not been as diligent about working out in the last year or two, and he knows his body is starting to look, well, a little middle-aged.

But, he reminds himself, tonight is not about that, tonight is about something else entirely.

He gets a drink from the bar, and finds a spot to stand, sipping his drink as he waits. Suddenly, he spots Louis coming in through the wide open doorway. He’s with several other people, none of whom Harry recognizes at first glance. He’s wearing a suit and tie, and has clearly put effort into fixing his hair and Harry feels his heart leap at the sight of him.

He remembers the first time he ever saw Louis. They’d met in a class their senior year of college, they’d both left their science distributives to the last year, and had ended up sitting next to each other in the campus-famous gpa-booster, Rocks for Jocks. Harry had been almost breathless when he’d looked up from scanning the syllabus as a body had slid into the chair next to him with a muttered, “Anyone sitting here?” He’d barely been able to stutter out a “N-no,” feeling poleaxed by the guy looking back at him with amusement. Louis had leaned back, smirked and blatantly checked Harry out before whispering, “See something you like, buddy?” And that had been it for Harry.

As he looks at his husband, the man he’s spent the last 22 years with, 20 of them married, he’s suddenly floored with the intensity of feeling that wells up within him. His mind is flooded with images of their life together: the first time Louis had said “I love you,” walking down the aisle to meet him on their wedding day, greeting their beautiful children together. It hasn’t all been easy. They’d struggled financially while they were both in graduate school, and then through Harry’s job search. Louis had at times been overwhelmed as the primary stay-at-home parent, and had gone through a tough time after Ruby had been born. They’d watched friends marry and divorce, they’d lost their grandparents, and more than one friend. They’d had a few health scares, nothing too serious, all part of life, but through it all, Harry realizes, he’s never once doubted the love and loyalty of the man standing next to him, never once doubted that Louis is his partner, his best friend, his fucking soul mate. How they’ve managed to lose sight of that saddens him, and he knows that he’ll have to work to keep this appreciation front and center in his mind, but as he watches Louis throw his head back and laugh at something one of the women in his group is saying, Harry knows he can, and will do better. He will make more time to listen, to ask questions, to see his husband for the amazing partner and person that he is.

He sees Louis approach the bar, and takes a moment to admire the fit of his suit, the way the jacket drapes _just so_ over the curve of his ass, and then takes a deep breath.

It’s show time.

He squeezes in next to Louis at the crowded bar, nods to the bartender and then says “Your presentation was fascinating.”

Louis turns and out-and-out gasps as he takes in Harry standing casually next to him. He opens his mouth, presumably to ask Harry what the fuck he’s doing here in Boston, so Harry hastily thrusts out his hand.

“I’m Harry To–, Harry Styles.” He flushes a bit, wondering if Louis will get it, if he’ll play along and for a moment, he’s held frozen in silence as Louis’ eyes narrow consideringly and then Harry sees it click and breaths out an inaudible sigh of relief.

Louis, eyes still narrowed, holds his hand out and shakes Harry’s firmly. “Louis, Louis Tomlinson,” he says carefully, and Harry grins. They’ve been Tomlinson-Styles for close to half their lives, and he’s forgotten how to introduce himself any other way.

He reminds himself that he’s in character here, so he leans on an elbow against the bar, and glances at Louis from under his lashes, a move he’s not pulled out in years. He hasn’t needed to, but tonight, he’s going for the big guns. He sees Louis' eyes sweep from his own down to his lips and back, and thinks, _gotcha._

“I was really interested in hearing about the work you’re doing in Vermont.”

The bartender drops a glass of wine in front of each of them, casts an appraising eye over them both and says, “Give a wave if you need anything, boys,” and walks away, snapping her gum.

Louis takes a sip, quirking one eyebrow as he smirks a bit over the rim of the plastic glass. “Really? You’re interested in technology and literacy in rural communities?” Harry can hear the amused tone in his voice and thinks, _not so fast, buddy._

“Definitely,” Harry smiles back, sips his own drink, carefully licks the wine from his lips. “I was particularly interested in your acknowledgement of the tension between the ways that apps can help in the development of early literacy skills and the issue of exposure to screen time on developing brains and the impact on attention.”

Louis’ eyes light up and Harry feels himself grin in response, and they’re off. The conversation moves from the presentation to another talk Louis had attended that morning. He’s unable to keep the laugh out of his voice as he asks with a solemn face if Harry had been able to attend as well, and had snickered when Harry had said only, “No, I was...busy this morning.”

He sees Louis glance down at the plain platinum band on his hand, and briefly wonders how Louis will want to play this. He can see Louis considering as well, and then he goes with only, “So, here on your own then? No...entanglements?”

Harry grins. “Yeah, single pringle ready to mingle, that’s me.”

Louis takes another sip of wine and for a split second, the mask slips and the fond shines through. “Same,” is all he says and for an electric moment, their eyes catch and hold, and Harry’s pulse stutters.

Louis continues, “I haven’t seen you at one of these things before, are you...new to the field?”

Harry shrugs and says simply, “I’m in academia, so, you know. Related.”

He watches Louis raise one eyebrow, and then mercifully his husband turns the conversation to other topics. As they talk and flirt, Harry feels like he’s seeing Louis with new eyes tonight. It’s not that they don’t love each other. It’s not even that Harry isn’t still _in love_ with Louis. It’s that Harry knows, or has learned, rather, that those feelings aren’t enough to base a life, or a _marriage,_ on. They’re not enough to hold two people together for 22 years, through the ups and downs the years bring to all, if you’re lucky enough to survive them. Those feelings, especially the butterflies-in-the-tummy, fizzy-falling-in-love feelings, those don’t last. But, Harry thinks, as he drinks another glass of wine, as he and Louis tour the buffet stations together, as they sit close, talking eagerly, sparks arcing between them where their legs are pressed together, getting to know each other in a whole new light, those feelings can be reignited, can’t they? They can be relit with care and effort.

And, for once, that’s something he and Louis have tonight.

As they hand their dishes off to a passing waiter, something occurs to Harry. “I’m so sorry,” he says belatedly, “I’ve been monopolizing you all night. If you need to head off and spend time with colleagues, you know…” His voice trails off. The last thing in the world he wants is for Louis to leave him here, but he doesn’t want him to miss valuable networking opportunities either.

But, Louis is already shaking his head and scoffing. “I’ve actually seen everyone I had on my list to spend time with. I wasn’t planning on spending the whole evening here anyway, was thinking I’d just head back to my room, call it an early night, but…” His voice trails off as well, and he grins impishly, “I had to meet an interesting...stranger.” His eyes blatantly rake up and down Harry’s body now. “A _very_ interesting stranger. And now suddenly, I guess you could say, I’m just eager to see where the night takes me.”

Harry takes a deep breath. “Well,” he says slowly, “Not to be too forward, but one place it could take us is up to my room? We could have a bottle of wine sent up, maybe get to know each other in a...quieter setting.”

Louis’ eyes darken as he inhales and then he says softly, “Why, Harry, I thought you’d never ask.”

He stands, dusting his palms off on his suit pants and then, offering a hand to Harry, pulls him to his feet. Harry stares at him, a little stunned by Louis’ decisiveness, but then grins, raising his eyebrows as Louis threads his fingers through his own for a moment, and squeezes. Harry feels a thrill from that small gesture that echoes through him, and he’s reminded of what it felt like to fall for Louis so long ago, how exciting every gesture, every first was. He feels that same anticipation now, thrumming in his bones, and carefully squeezes back.

They make their way through the crowded ballroom. As the wine and beer have flowed, the volume in the room has risen, and Harry watches Louis just ahead of him, determinedly pressing through the crowd, tugging Harry behind him like a balloon on a string. Louis is acknowledging people he knows as they go by, and Harry feels a funny jolt as Binh waves at Louis and then does a double-take at the sight of Harry, but Louis is just waving to him as they make their way through the crowd, not stopping to talk with anyone. Then Louis is guiding them out into the hotel lobby where the volume and the temperature both drop significantly and Harry gives a sigh of relief.

He stops by the front desk to ask for wine and snacks to be sent to his room, and out of the corner of his eye catches the expression on Louis’ face when he says the words “Boston Public Library suite.”

“Harry,” Louis breathes, as they make their towards the elevators, Harry having been assured that his order would be at his door in fifteen minutes. “Harry, did you get a _suite?”_ His voice has dropped out of the light, teasing tone he’s been taking with Harry for the last couple of hours into something a bit more real and familiar.

They make their way into the elevator and Harry turns to Louis and says honestly, “I did.” He coughs, feeling suddenly self-conscious in the charade they’ve been maintaining. “Uh, coming down to Boston for the weekend, it was kind of a last-minute decision, and this was the only room left in the hotel, so I just...booked it,” and with his words, suddenly Louis is in his arms, his mouth pressed against Harry’s, pushing Harry back against the velvet-lined walls of the car that’s carrying them up to Harry’s floor. It takes Harry’s body no time at all to get with the program, as he’s had years of kissing Louis, but there’s something about this that is so different from the kisses they’ve shared of late. Those kisses have been affectionate, for sure, but too often too brief, and it’s been far too long since Harry has had Louis in his arms solely for the purpose of kissing him senseless.

After a moment, Louis pulls back and Harry reluctantly lets him go, chasing his lips for one last kiss as the elevator slows to a stop and the doors open. They grin foolishly at each other and Harry presses a hand to his pounding heart as they exit to the hallway and he roots in his pocket for his room key.

“Not that I’m objecting,” he says a bit breathlessly as they make their way down the hall, “But may I ask? What was that for?”

Louis just smiles demurely, glancing down quickly so that his lashes stand out in stark relief against his cheekbones.

“Maybe I just really like hotel suites,” he suggests after a moment, the laughter evident in his voice.

“Well then,” Harry says as he inserts the key into the lock, “You, Mr. Tomlinson, are in for a treat tonight.”

They enter the hallway and Harry watches Louis glance around, taking in the luxury of their surroundings, his eyes widening.

“My god, Harry, this is amazing.” He pauses, “You sure you can afford this, love?”

Harry grins, and moves in closer, gauging Louis’ mood as he steps into his personal space, heart rate jacking back up. “Don’t you worry about that tonight, Louis. Just...relax and enjoy it, okay?”

He’s close enough now that Louis has to lift his chin to continue meeting Harry’s eyes, and Harry is struck dumb as he looks down at Louis, mesmerized by the light that’s shining in Louis' familiar blue eyes, by the small grin playing around the corners of Louis’ mouth. And then Harry, feeling unsure in a way he hasn’t in years, if not decades, says, “Can I kiss you, Louis? Can I?”

Louis meets his eyes head-on, and then nods, almost imperceptibly, and Harry moves in, slow and sure, never losing his gaze as he gets closer, until Louis’ eyes flutter shut and his mouth tilts up, and Harry presses his lips to Louis'. He is, at the same time, comfortingly familiar and maddeningly new. There’s an unfamiliar taste to him, maybe it’s the wine or the gala chicken dish or the hotel toothpaste, but he _feels_ different somehow. It feels new. It’s exciting, Harry realizes, kissing him like he’s a stranger, like they’re kissing for the very first time. He kisses Louis like he’s not a sure thing, and that seems to make all the difference as Louis melts into him with a low moan, his mouth opening under Harry’s gentle onslaught, letting Harry’s tongue slip in to meet his own. They kiss like that, frantic and breathless, as if they’re the same eager young men they were when they met, until a firm knock on the door interrupts them and they separate slowly, Louis looking as dazed as Harry feels.

“That’ll be…” he takes a deep breath, trying to regain control, “That’s the wine.” He moves to the door, opens it, signs the slip, and moves aside to allow the waiter to wheel the cart into the room. Harry would place money on the waiter being fully aware of what he’s interrupted as he trundles the serving cart past them, taking in, Harry is sure, their flushed faces and disheveled hair.

The waiter says over his shoulder as he moves into the suite, “I’ll just get this set up in the living room, shall I, sirs?” He parks the cart next to the couch and deftly places the wine in an ice bucket, and then sets two large, long-stemmed crystal glasses and a covered serving dish onto the coffee table. He transfers plates and utensils, along with a small pile of what look like honest-to-god linen napkins, and then carefully opens and recorks the wine, no screw-tops for the Copley Plaza.. As he exits, he flips on the fireplace and murmurs, “For the atmosphere, sirs.” He discreetly pockets the tip Harry passes over, somehow manages to convey with his expression the equivalent of a hat tip, and says, “I hope the sirs have a lovely night,” and then he’s out the door, leaving a moment of silence in his wake.

Harry says, “Err, shall we?” as he gestures towards the living room, and follows Louis into the room as he settles himself on the plush couch. He carefully pours them each a glass of wine, and uncovers the food, finding the cheese and charcuterie plate he’d requested, and another plate of dainty gourmet cookies.

Louis takes a sip of the wine and gives a hum of approval. “Wow, that’s a lot better than that open-bar crap downstairs,” he comments.

The tension between them that had exploded in the front hall has subsided a bit, but Harry still feels it like an electric current under his skin and he shifts. He can’t seem to get comfortable and suddenly he wants nothing more than to set the artifice aside, and be right here, right now, with Louis, _his_ Lou, the man he’s loved for half his life, and when Louis opens his mouth again, Harry breathes out in relief, because Louis says carefully,

‘Not that this hasn’t been...intriguing, and _so_ fun, darling, but...can we talk? Really talk?”

Harry nods and takes a drink. He reaches over and takes Louis’ glass, and sets both of their glasses on the table. He turns to face Louis, and can’t help it, he moves closer until their legs are pressed together, and he takes Louis’ hands in his own, running his thumbs gently over the sensitive skin of Louis’ palms, who shivers a bit in response.

“Of course, baby. What do you want to talk about?”

“Well,” Louis huffs a sigh, “Maybe we could start with, what are you doing here? I mean, I’m _thrilled,_ it was such an amazing surprise, but, it was also, you know, an _actual_ surprise.”

Harry gathers his thoughts slowly. “I was realizing that we’ve been...We’ve been really out of sync lately, and when I realized that I didn’t even know your presentation had been accepted, whether you told me and I forgot, or you didn’t tell me, it just set off some pretty big warning bells.”

Louis’ gaze is so steadfast and strong, Harry feels his throat thicken.

Louis says quietly, “Are you telling me you’re unhappy, Harry? With us?” Harry can hear in his voice the effort he’s making to keep his tone steady, and without thinking, he tightens his grip on Louis’ hands, which cling to him, almost involuntarily it seems, in response.

“No, god, no, Lou. I love you, so much. You’re so much a part of me, I can’t imagine my life, who I’d be, without you. I don’t want any future that doesn’t have you in it, I just want.” HIs voice trails off as he tries to find the words. “We’re not in trouble _now,_ but if we’re still doing this in a few years, we will be, baby. Don’t you think? We’ve both gotten so caught up in everything, that we’ve kind of forgotten ourselves, and we’ve kind of forgotten _us._ We’ve stopped paying attention. How long has it been since we went out, just the two of us? Even for just a cup of coffee. We could do that now, the kids are old enough. How long has it been since we had an overnight away? I think it might have been Liam and Zayn’s wedding, and that was five years ago, baby. How long has it been,” he can feel the flush rising in his cheeks as he speaks, “How long has it been since we really made love?”

Louis’ eyes drop and he pulls one hand away from Harry to scrub across his face. “I hear you, Harry,” he says finally, “I hear you loud and clear. I can’t say I disagree. I guess I keep thinking, oh, we just have to get through the holidays, or we just have to get through the dance recital, or the end of the school year and then there’ll be time.” He gives a rueful grin, “I think that’s not working out so well, is it?”

Harry feels his heart pound as relief floods him. They’re okay. They’re going to be okay. He hasn’t let it go so long that they’re beyond repair. Just some cracks to mend. He feels his eyes well up and he swallows as Louis stares at him, his concern obvious.

“Harry, love, what is it? Why are you upset?”

“I’m not,” his voice is thick and he coughs to clear his throat, “I’m not upset. I’m so fucking relieved. It just hit me, what if I’d left it too late, what if…”

His voice trails off again as Louis squeezes his hands and says fiercely, “Harry, first of all, we’re forever, you and me, there is _no doubt_ about that, so we’ll never get to a point where it’s too late. We would never let it get to that point. And second, it’s not all on you, sweetheart. It’s on both of us. We just have to work harder, is all. Make the time. You’re totally right, we can leave the kids for an hour and go have coffee. Have more regular dates…”

Suddenly the look on his face changes, shifting from loving and concerned to something darker, something a bit more raw. This look is in direct opposition to the civilized trappings he’s wearing, the suit and tie, the dress shoes, and the juxtaposition is sexy as hell.

“And, since you’ve so cleverly solved the problem of lack of overnights, maybe we could rectify that ‘too long since we made love’ issue as well?”

Harry snickers at the air quotes Louis is making, juts out his chin and says “Well, I don’t know, old man, you think you’re up for it?” He can feel that the grin stretching his face is too wide, too delighted for the words he’s saying, is sure the dimples in his cheeks are on display as Louis stares at him. He knows Louis can’t resist a challenge and has never once backed down from a dare in his life, so he tenses, waiting. He’s prepared to be pounced upon, or tickled, or shoved back into the couch cushions and kissed until he can’t breathe.

What he is not prepared for is tenderness.

Louis’ face seems to shine in the dim light of the room coming from the fireplace and he reaches one hand up slowly to cup Harry’s cheek, pressing his thumb into the dent there, and Harry closes his eyes, overwhelmed by the rush of love that swells his heart, because it’s been so long since Louis has touched him like this.

As Louis leans in, in the heartbeat before he joins their mouths together, he whispers, “Oh Harry, I’ve missed you,” and Harry is undone.

The time for words is past now, as they sink into each other, gentle kisses at first, simply reconnecting with one another, holding on tight. Louis’ hands are framing Harry’s face as he kisses him deeply, while Harry’s arms are wrapped around Louis, grasping his strong, familiar body. He’s changed a bit from the boy Harry first fell in love with, his body now that of a man. He hasn’t gone soft though, has taken good care of himself over the years, and as Harry runs his hands appreciatively over the strong muscles of Louis’ back, he groans as he feels them shifting and tensing under his touch.

The kiss intensifies now, as Harry and Louis’ bodies strain towards each other, but Harry doesn’t want to rush this, wants to take his time with Louis, wants to relive those moments from when they were young and time stretched out before them, seemingly infinite. It wasn’t that they didn’t have worries or cares, but it was easier, Harry thinks, in those days, to put them down, to leave them at the bedroom door. Somehow, they’ve gotten out of that habit, and Harry vows, here and now, that he will work harder to make the time for Louis, because this, this connection, this love between them, this is what fuels him and fills him up, and it’s only by being filled to the brim with love like this, Harry realizes, that he will have all that love inside him to spill out into the rest of his life, to fill his life up with this amazing love that he and Louis share. This love that is at the heart of who he is.

He pulls back, gasping, and rises to his feet, pulling Louis to standing with him. “Up, love, come on,” he whispers, “Come to bed with me, please? Come love me in bed.”

Louis nods, looking almost dazed and follows Harry into the opulent bedroom.

If this were a movie, Harry muses to himself, there would be a seamless transition from clothed to nude, from hallway to bed, but it’s not a movie, it’s real life. So they stumble together into the bedroom, but when Harry stands by the bed and starts to take off his suit jacket, Louis stops him, placing his hands on Harry’s shoulders.

“Let me,” he says, his voice sure in the darkness of the room, lit now only by the glow of the city shining in through the sheer curtains that cover the floor-to-ceiling plate glass windows. Harry smiles, allows himself to be led as Louis undresses him so slowly and tenderly, pausing to kiss him again and again, until Harry is standing naked, next to the bed.

Louis says softly, “Get on the bed, darling,” as he begins stripping out of his suit, kicking his shoes off to the side. Harry pulls back the comforter and sets a few of the massive number of pillows on the floor, and settles himself on his side, unable to take his eyes off of Louis, who’s naked now too, his hard cock curving proudly up towards his belly.

Harry wonders, as Louis slides into the bed next to him, how many nights they’ve slept together in their years together. Five thousand? Six thousand? How many hours have they spent in bed together? Fifty thousand or more? It shouldn’t feel new or different, is the thing, but it does. Somehow, they’ve been transformed from two middle-aged men who carry so many different labels: father, husband, son, friend, teacher. It’s not that those roles don’t matter, or aren’t crucially important to who they are. Of course not. But here in the dark in this anonymous room, they’ve been distilled, Harry feels, down to their essential selves. They are able to set down for a while the beloved burdens that all those roles bring with them, to be Just Harry, lying here on the most comfortable mattress he’s ever encountered, loving Just Louis with every fiber of his being.

“I love you,” Harry whispers, the words inadequate to capture what he’s feeling, but they’ll have to do, they’re all he has. His eyes fill, and Louis brings up one hand to wipe away the tear that’s trickling down his cheek. “I love you so much, Louis. You must know that.”

“Oh darling,” Louis breathes, and leans in to kiss Harry so softly and gently, “I know, baby, I do. And you…” he looks concerned, “You know it too, right? You can’t doubt that, right? That I love you too, with everything that I have? Everything that I am? It’s yours, Harry. Only yours.”

Too full of emotion to speak, Harry can only nod as he takes a deep breath and then, finally, he can get the words out, “Fuck me, baby, please, I need you inside me.”

Yes, the words are crude, but the sentiment behind them is anything but as Louis, closing his eyes, presses his forehead to Harry’s and whispers, obviously as moved by this moment as Harry is, “I can do that, baby.”

They take their time, Louis working his way down Harry’s body to cover him with kisses and the occasional sharp nip that has Harry crying out at the sensation. Louis tongues at his achingly hard cock as he carefully works Harry open, snickering at the new, jumbo-sized bottle of lube that Harry had optimistically purchased just that afternoon.

“Fuck, Harry,” he whispers, “You’re so gorgeous, baby, so beautiful for me. I can’t believe you’re here with me tonight. I love you, baby, so much.”

Harry has no idea how much time has passed, knows only that he feels so loved and so cherished as Louis takes care of him, and knowing how much Louis loves to take care of him allows him to hand over that control, to let Louis be in charge for this portion of the evening. He’s set all the pieces in motion, Harry thinks, now all he has to do is lay back and enjoy the ride, and what a glorious ride it is.

“Fuck, Lou, come on, I’m ready, I need you in me.” He is panting, desperate for the feel of Louis inside of him. Fingers are good, Louis’ fingers may very well have been designed for the sole purpose of working Harry open, he’s not sure, but by god, he needs his husband’s cock and he needs it now. He wants to feel Louis over every part of him, to be as close as two humans can be.

Louis pulls his fingers from Harry’s body and wipes them on the sheet, and then gives Harry a thoughtful look.

“So,” he says a bit cautiously, “I was wondering…”

Harry leans up on one elbow to take a closer look at him. Louis is biting his lip and Harry says, “What is it, babe? What’s on your mind?”

“Well,” Louis draws his hand down over Harry’s abs, and wraps his lube-slick fingers around Harry’s cock, as Harry arches back and moans. “I was thinking..."

“Oh fuck,” Harry gives a low groan, “Don’t fucking stop, what were you thinking?”

Louis’ hand tightens slow and steady and then he says clearly, “I want to fuck you up against the window, Harry.”

At the thought of that, Harry cries out, suddenly shockingly close to the edge, and Louis grasps the base of his cock, squeezes firmly, “Since you almost came at the suggestion, I’m guessing you’re into it?”

“Oh god,” Harry hears himself give something that might be aptly described as a whimper, “Yeah, babe, holy fuck.”

Back when they’d been young and insatiable, Harry had always had a little bit of an exhibition kink, but it’s been a long time since he’s had the energy or opportunity to indulge himself in it.

“You think Boston can handle the sight of two middle-aged guys fucking over Copley Square?” he asks as he hauls himself to standing, legs trembling.

Louis ushers him gallantly over to the window, hand resting gently in the small of his back, and says, “Boston has been around for a long, long time, Harry, I’m pretty sure there’s nothing we could do that would be any more scandalous than things that have already happened here. Besides, there’s been too much bad energy here, let’s add to the good energy. And now,” he runs his hand down Harry’s back, slides it down to cup Harry’s bum, and then slips his fingers in between Harry’s cheeks. “Brace yourself, baby.”

Harry pulls the sheer curtains open a bit so that he can press his hands against the cool glass of the window. He bends over, positioning his ass just so, feeling a little ridiculous until he hears Louis swear desperately under his breath, and then he is lost to sensation as Louis grabs him by the hips and slowly pushes in.

Harry hasn’t been fucked like this in months, and he remembers to breathe deeply against the burn of the stretch, feeling like he’s being split open.

“Has your cock gotten bigger?” he manages to hiss as Louis bottoms out and they both freeze.

The strain of holding still is evident in Louis’ voice as he answers, “I don’t think that’s how the aging process works, darling, just the opposite, in fact. We just haven’t been doing this enough. Tell me when I can go, Harry, please.” His voice is just this side of frantic, so Harry shifts under him, teasing just a bit and Louis groans, his voice cracking.

“Yeah, baby, just go slow to start.”

“I’ll see if I can remember how it’s done,” Louis mutters, and then he’s moving, slowly and gently at first, though there’s no hesitancy in his actions.

Harry abandons himself to the sensation as Louis moves, faster now, the sound of skin slapping against skin loud in the room, and Harry hears a long, low moan that he’s shocked to discover is coming from him.

“Oh god, c’mon, lemme hear you,” Louis groans.

Harry opens his eyes, looking out at the brightly lit square below him, feeling a sensual thrill at the idea that they might be visible, that people down on the street below could see what’s happening here in this room tonight. He knows that’s unlikely, that they’re far too high above the street, but even so, he feels so exposed and fuck if that doesn’t do something to him.

“Harder, Lou,” he hears himself almost begging, “C’mon, fuck me harder, I’m so fucking close,” and he can feel it, he’s right on the edge, and then Louis reaches around, wraps his hand around Harry’s cock and Harry gives a strangled cry as his release splatters across the window.

Harry braces himself more firmly, legs shaking as he presses back. Louis thrusts hard into him again and again, and then suddenly he pulls out, and Harry can sense more than see Louis’ hand flying over his own cock until he gives a deep and guttural grunt of satisfaction and Harry can feel the hot splash of Louis’s release as he comes across Harry’s lower back and ass.

The room is silent, save for their gasping pants as they both start to settle down from the high of their respective orgasms, and suddenly Harry thinks his legs may collapse. He totters over to collapse face-down on the bed as Louis heads into the bathroom, and then Harry hears the water running. He emerges moments later with a towel and washcloth in hand, and carefully wipes Harry down before tossing the linens back into the bathroom. Harry slowly inchworms his way up the bed, finally making it to the pillows, and reaches out for Louis as he climbs into the bed next to him.

“Holy shit,” he finally breathes, “I don’t think I’ve come that hard in years, Lou. Why the fuck aren’t we doing this all the time?”

Louis snuggles in so his head is resting on Harry’s chest, and Harry wraps his arms around him. “Your guess is as good as mine, I’m pretty sure we both know why, but yeah, we gotta do this way more regularly.”

“You’re going to have give me some time to recover,” Harry mumbles. He tries to pull Louis even closer as he feels sleep beginning to drag him under, “I’m not as young as I used to be.”

As he drifts off, weightless, anchored to the bed only by Louis’ body against his, he feels Louis press a kiss to his chest, right over his heart, and hears him whisper, “I love you, Harry, always.”

**4 Months Later**

Harry looks around fondly at the people surrounding him on the deck of the restaurant overlooking Lake Champlain. He catches Louis’ eye from across the space, and they grin at each other. Since their weekend in Boston, things have been better. Not perfect of course, no life is, but, Harry muses, so good. They’ve both been working to be more mindful of each other, setting aside time every night to talk about their days after the kids have gone to bed. Harry has placed a reminder on his phone to text Louis every day, and Louis has been leaving Harry silly, loving post-it notes all over the house. It’s been a good summer. Louis is still working, of course, but the library is closed on Fridays, and Harry hasn’t been teaching, so they’ve had lots of long weekends. They’ve gone camping with the kids, spent time with family, even taken a weekend trip to Montreal. Now they’re here, with their friends and family, everyone dressed up in their summer finery, to celebrate Harry and Louis' twenty-first wedding anniversary, and Harry has something to say.

He moves to the railing and, picking up a glass of champagne, taps on it several times with a spoon. The chatter stills and everyone turns to focus on Harry. He has eyes only for Louis though, who is standing down at the other end of the deck...

Harry clears his throat and begins.

“First, I want to thank all of you for coming out tonight to celebrate our anniversary with us. They say it takes a village to raise a family, and I know that’s true, so thank you, all of you, for being our village.” He sees Liam give a knowing nod, and tosses him a grin.

Harry continues. “I can’t quite believe it’s been twenty-one years. I was twenty-one when I met Louis in that geography class, so we’ve been married for half our lives now, together for even longer.” The crowd offers a coo of appreciation and Harry sees Louis roll his eyes fondly and laugh.

“Twenty-one years, that’s a long time. After this many years, the mortgage, the kids, the minivan, I think it’s pretty safe to say, it’s not just a starter marriage. Our marriage can buy a beer now, baby!” As everyone laughs, Harry’s voice becomes more serious.

“I want to take a moment just to tell you all that there’s no one else in the world I would rather have spent these years with. Louis, you are an incredible partner, an amazing father...”

Ruby gives a shriek of approval at this and yells, “I LOVE YOU, DADDY!” and everyone laughs as Louis raises his glass and blows her a kiss, murmuring, “I love you too, baby.”

Harry pauses, presses a hand to his heart and then says, “Louis, you are, quite simply, the best person I have ever known. It’s been the most amazing life so far, beyond anything I ever could have imagined, and I can’t wait to see what’s in store for us.” He can see the sheen in Louis’ eyes as he says this, and Louis raises his glass in a silent toast and then mouths to Harry, “I love you.”

“Happy anniversary, baby. Thank you, everyone, for supporting us, and coming out to celebrate with us. I wanted to finish with this quote from a poem we used in our wedding ceremony.”

Harry takes a deep breath, his gaze holding Louis' as he raises his glass and then he says,

“Oh my love, come with me  
Into the garden where it’s cool in the shade  
We can sit, and drink from the well that will never run dry.  
Come with me, my love, to the garden,  
And spend all your days with me.  
There is still so much more to say.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come say hi on Tumblr! If you enjoyed this, the rest of my stuff can be found here!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and if you feel so inspired, please leave a kudos or a comment, they all make my day brighter!
> 
> Even better, if you enjoyed this, share it with others! The rebloggable tumblr post [is right here!](https://phd-mama.tumblr.com/post/159717802322/wherever-i-go-you-go-with-me)
> 
> The title for this fic was taken from a Rumi poem that's particularly gorgeous:
> 
> Come, come, O my beloved, O my beloved.  
> Enter, enter busy yourself with me, with me.  
> You are, you are, my rose garden, my rose garden  
> Reveal, reveal my secrets, my secrets.  
> Wherever I go, you go with me, you go with me,  
> in every stage you are the confidant, you are the confidant.  
> Day and night you are my companion, you are my companion.  
> For my trap you are a befitting gazelle, a befitting gazelle.  
> O my candle! you are so bright, so bright. In my house,  
> you are like a window, like a window.  
> When the arrow of disaster targets me, targets me,  
> you are both armor and a shield, and a shield.


End file.
